Tutankhamun Uncovered (56 page)

The earl smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.

Once back at the top, they found Evelyn in conversation with an unwashed and unshaven Adamson.

“Ah, Sergeant, may I introduce his lordship the Lord Carnarvon, the sponsor of this dig and my very good friend.”

“My pleasure, y’ lordship,” said the sergeant politely, clicking to attention and extending his hand.

The earl shook his hand warmly. “Carnarvon. You may address me as Carnarvon, Sergeant.”

“Thank you, sir... er, Carnarvon. H’I’d be most h’onoured if you would likewise address me as h’Adamson, sir.”

“Adamson it is. I see you have already acquainted yourself with my daughter, Lady Evelyn.”

Adamson smiled. “Indeed, y’ lordship... er, Carnarvon. H’I wish h’I’d known you wuz coming so h’early this morning. It ’asn’t been my ’abit of late to h’attend to me toiletries h’until I’ve ‘ad me breakfast. Caught me in the middle of it. Bit of a surprise! Be better prepared next time.”

“No matter, Sergeant,” chimed in Evelyn. “Truth is, this is a most unusual event for all of us. Driven out of bed early because we were unable to contain our anticipation. Doubt we will demonstrate such urgency heretofore.”

‘Eretofor?’ thought Adamson. ‘Wot the ’ell’s ’eretofor?’ He didn’t dare ask. He excused himself and returned to his breakfast.

The three sat down next to one another in a line along the wall. Motionless they watched the activity below. Before too long, however, the sun had breached the cliff edge and beat down unhindered into the valley bottom. Both the earl and his daughter were quick to give up their vigil and seek the shade and coolness of the tomb that Carter had prepared for their comfort and fortification. He had cleaned out the entrance corridor to the tomb of Ramses XI, situated less than a hundred yards back towards the mouth of the valley. There he had prepared a long table and adequate seating. The provisions, including the earl’s imported stock of wine, were stored deeper in the tomb where the temperature remained more equable.

They sat around the table, which was already set for lunch, and Carter outlined his plans for the next day. He had no means of knowing what he would find at the other end of the rubble filled corridor and was unable to look any farther forward than that.

“The men will clear the stairwell by mid afternoon. We shall then examine the door in detail. The impressions at the top are just anonymous necropolis seals. They tell us nothing of the owner. There will be more seals below. After examining all the seals, we shall dismantle the door. And tomorrow we can begin on what lies beyond.”

Carter had decided to keep what he already knew a secret. He wanted the earl to discover the name of the tomb’s inhabitant himself. The grandee well deserved the thrill and the honour of first discovery.

After personally devouring the best part of a bottle of claret at lunch, Carnarvon was compelled to take a snooze on the canvas camp bed laid out for that very purpose in the tomb corridor. Lady Evelyn settled her father down and went out to join Carter who was back inside the pit ensuring that Ali did not allow his men to damage the surface of the door. It was by now two thirds uncovered.

“Howard,” she called. “Do you make anything of the seals there?”

“I’m sorry? Wh... what did you say, Lady Evelyn?”

“The seals, Howard. The seals. Can you make anything of them?”

“Ah... Necropolis seals, Lady Evelyn. Anonymous so far. Perhaps there will be no name on this door. Please go and check on his lordship, Lady Evelyn. I would not like him to miss the first complete uncovering of the doorway. If he should stir at all, please wake him and bring him here.”

Evelyn disappeared and Carter settled back to sit on the stone stairway.

The men continued clearing the rubble. In the noise of industry, he didn’t hear Adamson’s hobnailed military boots clicking down the steps behind him.

“Mr Carter, sah!”

Carter turned, startled. “Mmm? What? What d’you want?” Irritation at this untimely interruption was quite evident in the tone of his response.

“Er... H’I f ’ought I’d take advantage of this slack moment to h’ask you a faver, sir.”

“Well?”

“Y’know when you sent for me to do this job as we’ve spoken before, like h’I ’adn’t expected to be h’officiating ’ere h’every bloody day an’ h’every bloody night, an’... An’...”

“Yes, man. Go on. Go on. I’m busy. I’m expecting his Lordship any moment. Be brief.”

“Well, sir, since it is necessary for me t’be ‘ere all the time h’I do understand why, an’ h’I am in your debt for the responsibility you ‘ave placed h’upon me shoulders, an’ all h’I would appreciate a few ’ome comforts.”

“Yes?” Carter was only half listening to the sergeant. “Home comforts. Such as?”

“Well... Some form of h’entertainment... To relieve the loneliness of th’ place, like.”

“Are you suggesting...?”

“Music, sir. Music. Gramophone. Some records. H’I like classical stuff. H’an’ sergestive biscuits, if you please, sir. Crawfords. H’I likes Crawfords. Me Mum raised me on ’em.”

“‘Suggestive biscuits’? Ah. Digestive biscuits. I will see to it.”

Carter had neither the time nor the inclination to negotiate. Adamson had got him at just the right moment. Besides, the earl’s stores were excessively plentiful and close by.

By the time Carnarvon had returned to the wall above the pit, the stairwell was completely cleared and swept clean. Carter was on the bottom step pretending to examine what was impressed on the mud plaster close to the base of the sealed doorway.

“Howard!” the earl called to the archaeologist as he attempted to negotiate the first of the stone steps. “My boy. What have you found there?”

Carter beckoned the earl forward so that he could examine the impressions for himself. With the aid of his cane, the earl struggled down the uneven steps as fast as he dared. Carter received him with a steadying hand and guided him close to the wall of mud plaster. There was a pregnant pause as Carnarvon took the time to focus on the blurred impressions stamped higgledy-piggledy in front of him. Finally he turned, beaming to his colleague, his face the very picture of delight.

“Howard! My boy! This impression is complex but I believe within it I can make out the prenomen of the boy king Tutankhamen! And there is more than one. Pharaoh Nebkheperure! He is here! We have found him! I cannot believe our good luck! Come, look!”

“My God, sir! Let me see.”

“It is dark,” cautioned Carnarvon with authority. “Difficult to see in so little light and with so much brightness above. But once your eyes become accustomed to it, my boy, the relief comes forward to you. Look at this one,” the earl indicated with a trembling finger.

“Evelyn! Evelyn! Give me your cosmetic mirror. Quickly, girl!”

Carnarvon’s daughter, now at the bottom of the steps herself, pulled a small bag from her sleeve, found the mirror and passed it to him. He angled it to take advantage of the sunlight and reflected this across the relief of the seal.

“See?”

As if it was his first time, Carter dwelt on the impression for some moments. The king’s name was located in the middle of the top portion of the seal. A simple disc above the head of a scarab; three vertical lines in a row at its base; below this, a semicircle. He turned, smiling and winked at his patron.

“Howard, m’ boy! We’ve done it! At last, we’ve done it! I am speechlessly proud of you!”

Praise indeed and justly administered. Even if, in the event, there was nothing beyond the corridor, Carter felt vindicated. But he held no personal doubts. There just had to be something significant ahead.

Carter sat on a step and pulled an index card from his coat pocket. He wrote on the top ‘Obj. No. 4’ and, with the precision of an architect, began to sketch each of the different impressions he saw before him, carefully scaling them against the horizontal lines on each card. Carnarvon patiently watched over his shoulder. He was familiar with Carter’s disciplined routine. Should there be more finds literally everything would be recorded with the same patient attention to detail. At the time, of course, they had no idea just how large this catalogue would become.

Carter finished his drawing and note taking and pocketed the card. One last act before this first day was out.

“A moment, m’ lord. Let us investigate what lies behind the door.” Carter turned and looked up at the silhouettes of the men standing all about the wall above. “Ali! My probing rod, if you please.”

The reis disappeared for a moment and then returned with Carter’s iron probe. Carter took it, wet the tip with his tongue, and gingerly pushed it into the small hole that he had made some weeks previously. Feeling the anxiety of the moment, Carnarvon grabbed Carter’s hand to ensure he did not push the probe in too violently in his haste to discover what may lie beyond and thereby risk damaging some priceless object.

“No matter, m’ lord. I will be careful, I promise you.”

He pushed the probe through the hole very slowly. It passed but two feet before it came upon an extremely solid obstruction. Carter withdrew it quickly to examine the end for signs of paint or other residue. There was nothing more than a few grains of white calcite adhering to the tip.

An anxious earl leaned over Carter’s shoulder. “What do y’think, Howard?”

“I do believe we have a rock filled corridor ahead of us, m’ lord. Since we have no way of knowing how long it may be, how long it will take us to empty it I do not know. We shall get started first thing tomorrow. I must have the doorway impressions photographed first. Harry Burton, my old colleague from the Met, is here with his wife. He has been staying in Luxor these past weeks. I am sure he will help us. If the situation proves worthy I shall, of course, cable the Met to obtain official approval for our exclusive use of his services. But for now a simple request for his expertise on account, so to speak, will suffice. A favour, y’ know.”

Carter was right. Burton, although on a long-term assignment to photographically document the lavish and picturesque tomb of Seti I, was only too pleased to get involved, and it didn’t need the proverbial gin and tonic that evening to persuade him.

At first light the following morning, he was at the site along with his entourage of carriers fully laden with the equipment of his trade. With the help of electric light wired in temporarily from an adjacent tomb, Burton was able to illuminate the door at an angle sufficient to bring out the detail in the seal impressions.

As the photographer finished his last plate, Carter’s patience finally gave out. Already on the bottom step alongside his colleague, Carter began carefully chipping away at the plaster, taking it down in coherent pieces, one brick at a time. On this occasion, in his anxiety to establish whether he truly had something of significance, Carter did not wait to learn if Burton’s photographs had been developed successfully an act he would be careful not to repeat. He set about the brick wall energetically, but with consummate care.

With the door dismantled and nothing but the rubble fill exposed, Carter realised he probably had a long job of excavation ahead before anything of significance was revealed.

Carnarvon came by three or four times that day. At first early to ensure that Carter’s original prognosis was correct and there indeed was a fill of rubble behind the door. Once he had seen for himself, he became less eager to stand around and watch the relatively boring process of removal of the rocks and the tomb chippings which filled the corridor completely to its ceiling and for much of its length. He retired to his camp bed in the cool of the tomb of Ramses XI. He was resting there when he heard Carter call.

“Carnarvon... Carnarvon!” Carter appeared at the entrance, “Carnarvon! I have found something exquisite!”

Carter was brightly backlit by the midday sun. The silhouette was totally black, its surroundings glaringly brilliant. Carnarvon, temporarily dazzled, could barely make out the form of his approaching colleague.

“Need something to pack it in for the time being.”

“What is it, my good man? What have you found?”

Carter, marching purposefully down the entrance corridor of the tomb towards his patron with his new discovery cradled in his arms, could see the earl perfectly and in the excitement gave little regard to the excruciatingly bright view in the opposite direction.

“Look at it, m’ lord. Just feast your eyes on this piece.” He thrust it before Carnarvon’s squinting eyes.

The earl eased his legs off the bed and turned towards his colleague. As his numbed eyes accommodated to the light he could make out a head. “A bust. It’s a wooden bust...”, he started, “...of a boy. It seems to be the likeness of a boy. The shape of the cranium... elongate... most odd. Most attractive artistry, however. What do you think it depicts, Howard? The boy king himself?”

“The very thing, Carnarvon! The very thing! Marvellous, don’t y’ think? Absolutely bloody marvellous!”

“Well? Where did you find it man? Where did you find it? Is there more?” The earl was now putting on his shoes, eager to return to the site.

“Stay, m’ lord. No hurry. We’re still digging out the corridor. Found it in the refilled robbers’ tunnel. Must have been left there in antiquity. In their haste to escape, perhaps.”

He lifted the head up to catch a shaft of light beaming across the relative gloom of the corridor. The coloured pigments almost glittered in the sunshine. The features, particularly the fulsome, boyish cheeks, chipped a little by rough handling, were nevertheless beautifully structured.

“I need something to pack it in, m’ lord. You have some wine boxes in here, do you not?”

Carnarvon turned and pointed deeper into the darkness. “Over there in the corner, Howard. You’ll find the claret over there. Take the bottles out. We’ll have one later tonight. Use the case.”

Carter opened the case, took out a couple of bottles and rearranged the straw to prepare a bed for the head. He carefully rested the object inside, jammed a little more straw around and over it, and replaced the lid. He became pensive for a moment. “Engelbach isn’t here, dammit. Not good form. He or the authorities really should be summoned lest, and before, we find anything of significance should we be so bloody lucky!” He almost shouted the last words in his excitement.